


love with the electric sound.

by cereal



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 13:19:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cereal/pseuds/cereal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been four months of this, four months of never bringing it up at home, in bed, where it belongs, when he finally graduates to a picture message. (10.5 and Rose, adventures in dirty text messaging.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	love with the electric sound.

**Author's Note:**

> The first 600 words of this are cross-posted from [this Tumblr post](http://allrightfine.tumblr.com/post/17221477258/tardisalert-it-starts-out-innocently), using the picture there as a prompt. Obviously it got a lot longer, and a lot (sort of) smuttier. Title from Free Energy's 'Dream City.'
> 
> * * *

  
It starts out innocently enough.

  Well, it starts out _ironically_ enough.

  She's sitting in a company-wide seminar, put on by human resources, about sexual harassment, when her phone vibrates.

   _I just spent an entire meeting thinking about your breasts. Is that normal?_

  She writes back carefully neutral, trying to decide if it's a thing he actually needs reassurance on -- unsure if this is a real question, like he frequently asks, about the ins and outs of human living, or if he's baiting her.

  Maybe, she types out.

  And then a second later another thought:

_Too much distraction will get you written up though._

  Not that Pete would write the Doctor -- wunderkind of health beverage publicity -- up. He's doing great things for Vitex, spending most of his time there and only setting foot inside Torchwood when absolutely necessary (so, every third alien emergency).  

Her phone goes off again a minute later, a block of text filling the screen.  

_On the contrary, I suggested a drink with hints of cinnamon for the holiday season, to rave reception, you should know. And that's due to the smell of your body wash and the way it clings to the skin of your chest._

She's still not got her footing and leaves it be. A moment passes, another arrives:

_I'll be buying a case when it comes out._

The next is sent a week later, from a radio interview for Vitex's new fall offerings. Rose had listened from her computer, typing out a report as the Doctor talked about things like Harvest Blast and Pumpkin Surprise.  

_I want to bite the round of your shoulder like an apple._

  Rose's face goes hot, still stuck at her desk. She watches the text on the screen scroll by to make room for more.

_Do you suppose that's a sign I'm not getting enough iron?_

It continues from there, sometimes three times a day, sometimes not for a month.  

She's not once responded in kind, even though she wants to -- wants to tell him about how the smooth marble of the conference table reminds her of that skin above his belly button where the hair stops and she could lick for an hour.

  Or about how the scratchy wool of her trousers reminds her of the brush of his sideburns against her thighs.

  Or about how perfect her desk would be for decidedly non-work related activities.

  Because she's still not sure if he understands the rush of heat and the way she's taken to wearing those trousers over and over, just so she can have the friction of something when she closes her legs in a debriefing.

  It's been four months of this, four months of never bringing it up at home, in bed, where it belongs, when he finally graduates to a picture message.  

A grainy shot of the front of his trousers, the bottom of his belt just visible at the top, but clear enough to tell his zipper isn't quite pulled closed, fills her phone, followed by a message.  

_How do I get this stain out?_

  She saves the picture down to the phone's memory and writes back the only logical way.  

_What stain?_

_The grape Vitex stain! Can't you see it? It's all wet! Soaked right through to my pants!_

  And she understands again the way the Doctor talks about seeing timelines, all laid out in front of him and turning on a moment.

  Because she sees the two ways this could go. There's "rinse it with cold water and put on the spares from your desk," and there's the way she goes instead:  

_Kind of dealing with my own wet pants situation over here._

  His response is immediate:

_Did you spill your lunch, too? We're quite a pair!_

She waits, watches her phone light up again a moment later.  

_**Oh.** _

&&.

It's not that he didn't realize what he was doing.

Well, not that he didn't _eventually_ realize what he was doing.

But it was a company phone, after all, and Rose never seemed interested, and getting too in to it would just be embarrassing for everyone. Like that time he totally misunderstood the purpose of chicken fights in the Tyler pool and had to skip the entire salad course of the barbecue trying to calm himself down.

(Honestly, Rose in a bikini, with her legs wrapped around his neck -- he's still not sure how he was the one getting it wrong. Nevermind that they were ostensibly fighting Jake and that nice girl from R&D. As far as the Doctor was concerned, that was completely ancillary to what was actually going on.)

So when Rose finally decided to join in on adventures in dirty texting, it was more of a pleasant surprise than anything he'd been angling for. Much.

But it left him at a loss, how far was it really supposed to go? It was one thing to say something filthy while getting ready to do something filthy. It was quite another to type it out, all premeditated, in the middle of a press conference.

He'd already had to hand off the actual running of the event to a subordinate, covered in juice as he was. Did he really want to add getting hard into the mix?

Yeah. Yeah, he probably did.

Just as he was debating the merits of a harmless emoticon versus a graphic screed on just how he'd remove those wet knickers, his phone rattled in his hand.

_It's fine now, I took them off._

Well, there was that decided for him, can't very well remove knickers she was no longer wearing. And now an emoticon just seemed childish. With a glance at the room to make sure the press were all finding their seats, the Doctor ducked out into the back hall.

_Remind me -- skirt or trousers today?_

He bounced on his toes a few times, hoping Rose was going to keep her phone nearby. Having this conversation with half-hour breaks didn't seem ideal.

_Trousers, the navy ones._

The Doctor squinted, trying to remember what those looked like. Were they the ones that were sort of high-waisted? They were! All expensive wool, tight and molded to her arse.

_I like those._

Oh god, is this tea with Jackie? Hardly a very provocative response. Through the doors, he could hear the press conference starting up and he furiously tapped out another text.

_I like them better on the floor._

Great, now he'd probably made her think of how he forgot the laundry. This seemed needlessly complicated. Best just to start over and cut straight to the point.

_But they do make your already-amazing bum look especially amazing._

There. Covered all his bases. He stuck his head in to the press conference and watched Thomas field a few questions about the new diet line before his phone went off again.

_Anything in particular you'd like to do with my amazing bum?_

There was an entire novel, a series of novels, even, of things he'd like to do with her amazing bum, but he picked the very first thought.

_Run my hands down your back to the curve of it and use it to pull you against me._

Rose's response came just as he was noticing that the Vitex on his trousers and pants had dried, leaving a slight stiffness to the fabric that wasn't as unpleasant as it could've been.

_I love your hands, those long fingers, so good at_

And that was it. The end of the message. What, what were his fingers good at? He desperately wanted to know. He began to pace the hall. This could be a tease, to make him tell her what he wanted to use his fingers on, or it could be a sign of distress -- she could have been attacked. He heard applause coming from the conference room and reached out to dial Rose, when she messaged him again.

_Sorry, gotta go, weevils._

&&.

It wasn't that she'd meant to strand him like that. She really had wanted to see where he'd take it. She should've known aliens would interfere -- when had they not?

All the same, she couldn't bring herself to just jump back into it.

There hadn't been time to bring it up last night, dragging herself into the house, covered in mud and exhausted.

But now, now she'd been doing paperwork from yesterday's case all morning and the rest of the day full of more of it stretched out in front of her. Surely she could find the time for a quick message in between forms.

Typing in all the passwords to re-enter the encrypted server, she's struck with inspiration.

She pulls out a sheet of paper and scribbles down the alphabet forwards and then underneath that, she writes it backward.

Glancing at the code for reference, she types out her message.

_R / DZMG / GL / UFXP / BLF._

It's a simple sentence, and easily cracked, but she feels satisfied that it's a good way to ease back into -- whatever this is.

His reply comes less than a minute later.

_Why, Rose Tyler, I'd like to fuck you, too._

She's barely got a moment to realize she was hoping for something more when a picture message arrives. A photo of lines and circles, drawn in pen on a napkin.

_You know I don't speak Gallifreyan._

She squints at the drawing again.

_Are you implying I would use the language of my fallen people for a quick thrill?_

She pauses, trying to decide if he's serious. Anything from his past is always approached on his terms, maybe this is something with more weight.

Her phone chimes again.

_Because that is exactly what I'm doing._

Rose feels a swell of relief.

_Quick thrill for whom? I still can't read it._

_For me, of course. Not really a precedent for this, so I had to make do with improvisation from a lower dialect. Came out brilliantly, I might add._

Rose laughs, always so humble, the Doctor.

_I'm sure it is. You gonna share with the class? Or is this Tuesday's solo performance all over again?_

That was easily in Rose's top five Tuesdays of all time now.

_ROSE! I told you I don't know how I ended up on that website!_

_So you're sticking with that story then. I'll give you credit for committing, at least._

His response is a photo of his face, his tongue sticking out.

_Lovely. Now translate or I have work I could be doing._

_Rose Tyler, are you neglecting your duties to the universe to send naughty texts to your boyfriend?_

Another photo immediately follows, this one of his hand making a thumbs up.

She sends a picture of herself making a stern face back, feeling silly for the moment it takes to turn the phone around and take the photo.

She turns back to her computer, and manages to fill out a few lines, before he responds.

_It'd be better if I could show you, but basically it indicates my desire to spend an extended period of time between your legs, with my mouth, and then it details the actions that take place in that location, during that time, with references to past occurrences._

_Like last Saturday night?_

_Exactly like last Saturday night._

Rose tenses reflexively and bites her lip, typing her reply.

_I could use my mouth, too. I like doing that._

A picture of a turkey sandwich fills her screen and she's left confused. Her desk phone rings.

"Sorry, that was meant for Thomas. He didn't want to come with us, so I was showing him what he was missing."

Rose tried to string together what that meant.

"Doctor, where are you right now?"

"I'm at lunch. Pete says hello and to call your mum, by the way."

In the background, she could hear Pete, "Tell her I mean tonight! Not in a week!"

"Oh my god, you were texting me all -- all THAT sitting next to my dad?"

Horrified doesn't even begin to cover it.

"'Course not. Pete's sitting across from me, one of us has to be able to see the door."

Rose hangs up on him.

&&.

There are several more false starts after that.

A conversation that starts with a picture of the run in her stocking, high on her thigh, actually gets her to locking her office door before the Doctor texts apologies, having forgotten an important meeting.

She has to stop him in the middle of a several-messages-long description of tying her to the headboard to deal with a group of dignitaries from Melmac.

A picture of his hand wrapped around a bottle of the new cinnamon Vitex had to go unanswered, knee-deep in slime as she was.

She's sitting on one end of the couch, as the Doctor returns from the kitchen and sits on the other, when they finally get it sorted.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket and she pulls it out to see a message from him.

_Those jeans are so tight I can see the outline of your knickers._

She glances at him, but he seems absorbed in a commercial for Shirts, some new teen drama E4 is going to start up. She settles on playing along.

_Couldn't be, I'm not wearing any._

The Doctor plucks his phone from where he'd set it on the arm the couch. His face remains slack as he reads the message and types out a reply.

_One less thing for me to peel off of you then._

He replaces his phone and turns back to the television.

With barely a moment in between, she's responded.

_Where will you start?_

She holds her hand out in front of her, making a show of inspecting the way her nail polish is chipping.

_Probably undo those little buttons on your shirt, they don't look like they go all the way down though, so I'd lift it up and pull it over your head._

Rose reads the message and sets the phone aside, beginning to unbutton her shirt. Her phone moves again.

_Sexily._

She rolls her eyes at him and begins again, moving slower this time and catching him watching her out of the corner of his eye.

When she's done removing her shirt, she leans back into the couch in just her bra, grabbing her phone as she settles in.

_I'd remove your shirt, too, and I'd scratch at your stomach through it a bit first._

The Doctor follows her instructions as soon as he reads them, scratching slow circles across his abdomen and chest before sliding his hands under his t-shirt and pulling it off. Then he's grabbing his phone and thumbing at it.

_Got to get through that awkward shoes and socks part now._

Rose leans over to pull at her trainers and feels the couch shift as the Doctor does the same. Their shoes make twin thumps on the floor as they each toss them toward the hallway, followed by their socks.

_Done_ , Rose types back.

_I'd probably go for your breasts next, ring the nipple with my finger a few times before giving it a pinch._

Rose is still very clearly wearing a bra, but she gives him a pass, reaching around to unclasp it before removing it and acting out his words.

_Then I'd lick it_ , comes the Doctor's next text.

Rose opens her mouth and moves a hand under her breast before rethinking it. She gives him an arched eyebrow instead.

He gives a little grin and types back.

_Worth a shot._

She shakes her head.

_My turn. I'd move for your belt and undo that and your trousers, making sure to brush against you as I go._

He follows along gamely, pressing down in a way Rose wouldn't have done, but is definitely going to start doing now.

Without prompting, he lifts his hips and slides his trousers down to the floor, kicking them away and leaving him straining against his boxer shorts when he settles back down.

He grabs his phone again and hastily types something, turning to stare heatedly right at Rose when he finishes.

_Take off your jeans._

She was having him on about going knicker-less, so she hooks her thumbs in those and drags them down along with the denim.

It's not the sexiest she's ever felt, trying to arrange herself, starkers, on the couch, and she's trying to think of a way to reply when another message lights up the screen.

_Turn off your phone._

She barely has a second to toss it aside before the Doctor is on her, pressing her back into the couch.

He's scrambling with one hand, trying to get his boxers down, while the other hand tangles in her hair. He uses it to angle her head back before bringing his lips to hers.

He gives up on his pants when he gets them to his knees and slides a finger of his freed hand inside of her as he slips his tongue into her mouth.

She wiggles a hand in between them, cupping him briefly before turning her hand to grip him properly.

He matches the rhythm of his fingers to the one she's stroking him with as he tears his mouth from hers. It's wet and teeth and tongues as he latches onto the join of her neck and shoulder and she bucks into his hand.

They've had sex in between all this -- would've been a long six months if they hadn't -- but somehow this feels like the culmination of the most drawn out foreplay she's ever experienced.

It's with that in mind that she pulls her hand from him, shoving his from him her in the process.

"Now, now, now," she's panting as he moves her roughly by her hips, trying to get the angles right.

He's finally there, hovering so close, and Rose tenses, waiting, when he finally slides in.

The groan he lets out echoes her own and he drops his forehead to hers, growling out, "Is this what you wanted?" before he begins to move.

She tries to tell him yes, definitely, oh god, yes, but it comes out as a breathy noise she can only hope sounded affirmative.

The couch is narrow and uncomfortable, but the short thrusts it's forcing the Doctor into are creating friction exactly where she needs it. He's got one hand braced on the cushion behind her and the other is skating across her body, pausing to pull at her breasts and clutch her hip. Her own hands are clutching him to her, one cupped around the back of his thigh, the other anchoring the push-pull of his thrusts, nails curled into the curve of his arse.

He leans down for a final messy kiss before burying his head in her neck, teeth marking the skin there as he comes with loud, hitched breaths. He manages a few more shallow thrusts, hand spanned wide and pressing across the slope of her stomach and she follows behind him, fuck and yes and oh on her tongue.

When they finally pick themselves up from the couch, she can barely muster the energy to use the loo before she's collapsing in bed and falling asleep, head pillowed on his shoulder and chest.

&&.

The next morning she's rushing out the door, trying to get to work, when the Doctor catches up to her and hands her her phone.

"It was still on the floor from last night."

She offers her thanks and dashes away.

She's only reached the driveway when she gets her first text.

&&. 

* * *


End file.
